Tick Tock, Tick Tock
by insertcleverandwittytitlehere
Summary: Between Harry's fifth and sixth year, the ornate clock in the Weasley's sitting room changed, showing that all nine family members were in great mortal peril. This is the story of how Molly Weasley came to discover that very fact.


**A/N:** This is the Chudley Cannons' Captain checking in for Round 9 of Season 6 of the QLFC.

 **Prompt:** Write about Molly Weasley

 **Word count (before A/N):** 2,929 words

 **I am not JK. This is her world. I merely dabble.**

* * *

Molly Weasley stood stock still, her left hand clenched around her heart. It beat wildly beneath her fingers, making the very tips of her soft hands itch with each frantic pulse. The air in her home seemed thick with fog, though she could see clear as if it were a sun-filled day. It hurt to breathe.

She swallowed down a lump the size of a grapefruit. She dared not blink.

In front of her hung an ornate clock. It did not tell the time like any ordinary clock; instead, this clock tracked where her family was and what they might be up to. Altogether, it had nine hands inscribed with the names of each family member, and today Molly woke to find all nine hands, including her own, pointing toward mortal peril.

"That's a nasty surprise," she told the clock, her heart still beating at a helter-skelter pace. In the back of her mind, she knew this was coming, but that didn't soothe the worry and shock she felt staring at the enchanted object in front of her.

Was it possible the clock had been broken? Perhaps every single hand was stuck.

Molly reached out to poke at her husband's hand. Tentatively, she moved it to "Work," where it should have been. When she moved her finger away, however, the clock moved Arthur back to mortal peril.

"Well, I don't know what I expected," she snapped at the time piece. She huffed out her frustration and made her way to the kitchen, hoping that it was all in her head.

As she started cleaning the dishes from breakfast, Molly ran through her family members, ticking them off like one of her many checklists.

"Bill's at work, Charlie with his dragons, Percy…" she stopped, her heart sinking. She didn't actually know where Percy was or what he was doing anymore, and the thought alone terrified her. She glanced over her shoulder toward the closed door, the clock hanging beyond.

What if…

"No," she scolded herself, casting a spell to keep the dishes washing and drying on their own while Molly began folding linens. "No. Percy's at work, no doubt. The twins at their new shop, bless them. Ron and Ginny at school. Arthur at work. And me, I'm right here."

But her head kept swiveling back, her eyes glaring at the door behind her.

"Godric, help me," she muttered, turning on her heel and heading straight out the kitchen door and into the sitting room. The hands of the clock hadn't moved, not even an inch. Molly put her own hands on her hips in defiance and tapped her foot impatiently, letting the clock know how frustrated she was with it. Her mind raced through all the ways she might be able to fix the broken thing.

Because it _had_ to be broken. She was living, breathing, walking proof. She wasn't in any danger insider her own home. She had chores to do, rooms to clean, linens to mend and wash and fold and put away.

Again, Molly turned on her heel, adamant on getting the things on her list completed. Silly, broken clock withstanding.

After the dishes were washed and the linens folded and returned to their proper drawers, she decided to head outside to de-gnome the garden. Her eggplants were starting to blossom, and she did not want to see any of those pests trying to pull the petals off her flowers.

Molly stooped and picked up a particularly hateful gnome and chucked it over the fence. He landed with a vibrant thud, his small stature hidden beneath the tall grass. That didn't stop her from hearing all the obscenities he sent her way. Molly wiped away sweat from her brow, the June sun starting to gain that undeniable summer heat. She took a few moments to catch her breath, ignoring the words being slung at her from the still-peeved gnome.

 _Thump_!

Molly nearly jumped out of her skin. The noise—whatever it was—happened again. _Thump. Thump thump thump._

For the second time that day, she grabbed at her heart, feeling her quickening pulse jump with each new sound. Whatever it was, it was coming from inside the barn. Molly's mind blanked as she tried to remember exactly what Arthur had been working on that may have made such a noise.

But all she could remember was that her hand was pointed to mortal peril.

Had she been wrong? Was the clock telling the truth? Was she being threatened now, in her own garden?

Molly ran toward the house, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it. But that didn't feel like enough. She pulled out her wand and conjured six new locks, each a different pattern and shape, and attached them to her back door. Then she ran toward the front of the house and did the same with the front.

She stood in the middle of her sitting room, listening. The only thumping she could hear, however, was the beating of her own pulse through her ears. On the wall, her hand, along with everyone else's, stood stock still on mortal peril.

"Broken," she scolded it. But just to be sure…

Molly popped her head into the fireplace, her face materializing in Arthur's office, which he shared with three other people. Gregory Johnson spotted her first.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley. To what pleasure do we owe this visit?" he smiled sweetly through his fuzzy beard.

"Good morning, Gregory. I was hoping to speak with Arthur about one of his projects. I'm afraid it might be going off at the moment, and I do not want to be caught in a repeat of the conventional oven disaster of '92."

Gregory laughed. "Ah, yes. That _was_ quite a disaster. But your eyebrows look like they've grown in nicely, Molly."

"Hmm. Yes," she said politely, though her heart was still racing at the thought that someone could be standing behind her.

"Let me get Arthur for you."

She watched him exit the door and waited. When Arthur appeared, Molly let out the breath she did not know she was holding.

"Hello, darling. I hear something might be amiss in the barn?"

"Nothing to worry over, dear. Just some noises thumping around. Any idea what it might be?"

"Thumping? Hmm... I wonder." He leant in so that only Molly could hear. "I took a few Muggle toys home. One was called a basketball, and although it might sound like it should be shaped like a basket, it's actually a round, orange ball that bounces! I have a feeling that's what it is."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," he said. Then his eyes shifted, and she could see the concern growing on his face. "What is it, Molly? You looked flushed."

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just—worried, about Ron and Harry, is all. After the whole Ministry thing last week. I can't get Sirius out of my head."

Which was true. But at that moment, Molly was reminded that not too long ago, both Ron's and Ginny's hands were pointed at mortal peril, and they were real. What if the kids…

"Well, got to get back to cleaning!"

Molly pulled her head from the fireplace before Arthur could respond. Her heart was at it again, and so she took to pen and paper, sending a letter to Professor Dumbledore, asking about Ron's injuries. She also asked if it were possible for her to visit again, hoping that would entice the old headmaster to check on the boy.

As Errol took off toward the school, Molly stood at her kitchen window wringing her hands. She was overreacting, surely. Nothing was amiss, nothing scary or terrifying was plaguing her children.

Surely…

Except, Charlie _did_ work with dragons. That's not an easy job, even for the highly trained. Mortal peril wasn't an entirely inaccurate description…

Quickly, Molly conjured up her Patronus and sent it with a message all the way to Romania. She would know if Charlie was in mortal peril before lunch.

As for Bill, she decided to wait for Errol's return, when she could send another letter. Then, she floo-ed over to the twins new flat before it was too late.

Fred was the one to notice her timidly walking out of the fireplace.

"Mum?"

"Hi, Freddie," she smiled, though her lips quivered. She waved awkwardly at the elder twin, hoping her sudden appearance wouldn't put him off too much. "Thought I'd finally check out what you lot have been up to."

"Uh, right," Fred said, though his face held just a hint of confusion. "Hey, George?"

There was a loud bang from another room, followed by a slew of curse words. Molly's breath hitched in her throat, causing Fred to look at her in alarm. Moments later, George appeared, covered in green goo.

"I told you that product was sound sensitive… hey, Mum. What are you doing here?"

"Are you okay?" Fred asked, taking a step closer to her.

"I—of course! I had some free time and wanted to check in on my boys. Nothing out of the ordinary with that, is there?" She forced a smile on her face. The explosion had put her teeth on edge, and she was worried she made a mountain out of a mole hill with that blasted clock and its blasted mortal peril.

"Right…"

"Except you look a little pale…"

"And you're fiddling with your hands…"

"And you've never popped in before…"

"Did someone die?" the twins said in unison.

And it may have been the stress from the day, or maybe it was the ill-phrased question, but Molly finally broke down and started crying.

"I don't know!" she wailed. "Someone might have, but I don't know! Your father is fine, and you two look fine, and I think I'm fine, but, but, I don't know!"

Fred gently took her in his arms and let her cry in earnest onto his shoulder. It felt good to finally get the feeling of dread off her chest, although she felt like she had burdened the boys with her own worries. But ever since she walked into the sitting room and saw that _bloody_ clock, she couldn't shake the feeling of darkness weighing down on her.

She loved too fiercely; she heard that all her life. She loved her brothers so much so, when they were killed, she couldn't leave her bed for weeks. She loved Arthur so much, she ran away and eloped right after school even though her parents and his parents approved. She didn't care about that though. Any moment away from Arthur felt like an eternity.

And Molly loved her children. She would die for them. And though she wasn't sure if it would ever come to it, she knew she would murder for them, too. Nothing and nobody would dare harm them. Not while she was around to love and care for them.

Except, right now, they were all in grave danger, and she didn't understand why.

"Mum," Fred asked tentatively, placing his hands on her shoulders and staring into her eyes. "You're scaring us."

"I mean, we're here for you and we'll do what we can, but this is a bit terrifying. What's going on?" George added.

Molly looked from one boy to the other. She placed a hand on each of their faces despite the goo on George's entire body.

"My beautiful boys," she murmured, her mind flashing back to the time she first held them in her arms. Tiny bundles of red hair and blue eyes. Twenty fingers, twenty toes, and about half a million freckles between them.

"I think I can best explain it if I show you," she said. "Do you have a minute?"

"You don't mind?" George gestured to his clothes.

"No, of course not."

"Then this must be serious," she heard him whisper to Fred.

Molly stepped into the fireplace first. Once both her boys were with her, she led them to the clock.

"What…"

"But that can't be…"

"We're right here," they said in unison.

"That's what I said. Could it be broken?"

She watched as both George and Fred tried to move their respective hands to different spots on the clock, yet each time they ticked back to mortal peril. After about thirty minutes of puzzling over it, both concluded that it couldn't possibly be broken, yet it made little sense.

"Unless…"

"Unless?"

"When did you notice it?" Fred asked.

"This morning. Why?"

"How often do you look at it? Every day still?" When Molly nodded, Fred continued. "Look, I know what Ronnie and Co. were up to last week. Which means You-Know-Who has had a week to collect himself. What if…"

"What if we're all on his radar?" George finished. And for once, Molly could see the very real fear in their eyes. Could feel the severity of the situation as plain as the fear on their faces. If it wasn't bad enough that Ron had been in the same room as the Dark Lord just days before, now each and every one of her family had become a named target on His list.

"Well that's just brilliant," she spat at the clock. "Are you happy now?"

"Hey, Mum."

The three of them jumped, turning to see a silvery fox sitting on the coffee table. Charlie's Patronus. "I'm alright," it said. "Are you? You're message seemed a bit, I don't know, frantic? Anyways, all is well here. I have some Ridgebacks to get back to, so I'll owl you tonight."

With that, the fox disappeared into a cloudy mist. Both Fred and George looked at her.

"I was worried, okay?" she said sheepishly.

A faint pop echoed outside, once again drawing their attention away. But, when the visitor reached the front door, they couldn't seem to get in.

"Oh! My added locks," Molly rushed over to the door. She pressed her ear on the wood and shouted, "Who is it?"

"What?"

"Who's there?"

"Molly, it's me! It's Arthur. What's going on?"

Without looking back at the twins, Molly undid all six locks she had added earlier that morning. Arthur pressed his way in, a letter clutched in his hands.

"Why on earth are there so many locks? And—" he did a double take. "Boys? What are you doing here?"

"Apparently we're all in danger," George said.

"But don't worry, because Mum is on it," Fred said, smiling. Molly couldn't tell if they were trying to joke around or if they were actually trying to be serious like they were just before when they had looked at the clock.

"Danger? Is that why Dumbledore sent you this?" Arthur extended the letter out to her. "Errol took it to the wrong Weasley, I'm afraid."

Molly snatched it up, her eyes reviewing Dumbledore's note in earnest. She sighed with relief at the mention of Ginny being out and about in class. Ron's injuries from his stint in the Department of Mysteries were healing well, and Hermione seemed to be keeping him on task with his homework.

When her eyes reached the bottom of the letter, however, she understood why Arthur had come straight home. Dumbledore had asked if there had been any change to the family clock. Because of course he already knew.

"They're alright," Molly sighed, clutching the letter to her chest. "Oh, Arthur, look at that damned clock."

His eyes, which widened at her language, turned to look at the clock still hanging proudly on their sitting room wall. Molly watch him gasp at the position of their family's hands.

"My word," he said.

"We think You-Know-Who might be targeting us," George offered, the green goo still dripping from his hair.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"What do you mean?" Molly asked.

"When you popped in at work."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Well that's all fine and good, but you shouldn't be the only one who bears the burden of worry, love. We're in this together."

Molly nodded, her heart seizing up in her throat. Arthur knew just what to say sometimes, and his words were all it took to make her feel both safe and loved in that moment. She sighed as he pulled her into a hug and placed a warm kiss on her hairline. Again, she let out a breath she did not know she was holding.

"Why don't we invite Bill over for dinner. Percy, too, though we will see where that gets us. Freddie, George, get cleaned up. You're staying, too," Arthur said, guiding his wife toward the couch. "And you darling, rest for a bit. We'll start in the kitchen, and you can come and fix our mess once you're feeling better."

Molly smiled up at Arthur, knowing his little joke held more truth than he could possibly understand. The three left her alone on the couch, where she sat contemplating the day's activities. She sighed, her eyes seeking out the clock.

"Fine," she told it. "If you think for one minute this will intimidate me, you're messing with the wrong woman."

She stormed over to the clock, snatching it from the wall. With her wand, she shrank the whole thing down to fit in the palm of her hand.

"You're going to change. And I'm going to watch you until you do."

With that, Molly followed Arthur's path into the kitchen, more determined than ever to protect her family from whatever was out there, starting with a hefty dinner not cooked by her husband. The clock would not be leaving her side.


End file.
